


don't know how not to

by glowinghorizons



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8163107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/glowinghorizons
Summary: To be fair, he had grossly underestimated what having a friends-with-benefits relationship with Clarke Griffin would be like. He’s not an idiot - he knew that once he knew what a potential relationship with her would be like he’d probably be screwed, but he hadn’t anticipated it getting that far. He’s never been a relationship person. He never had time for one in high school, and never wanted one once he was older, preferring just to go on dates and have a good time. It was shallow, but now, now, he thinks bitterly, he understands his own reasoning even better. 
All that time, he thinks he was trying to protect himself from what he’s feeling now, which is something akin to a vast emptiness in the center of his chest. It feels like he’s missing something vital, to the point of an almost tangible ache, leaving him rubbing at the spot through his t-shirt.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _**A/N:** Blame this one on the angsty feeling I’ve had for the last three days for no apparent reason. Set in some vague AU time when Bellamy and Clarke were friends with benefits, and then after, when they’re not. Inspired by the song “How Not To” by Dan + Shay._
> 
> _It’s pretty angsty, but I am incapable of writing anything with a sad ending, so stick with it. Also, I wrote this in one sitting and only read over it once, so any mistakes are my own._

_I don't know how not to think about you_  
_When it's late at night and quiet_  
_And I know that I ought to be the one who is strong and just moves on_  
_But I probably turn down your road, knock knock on your door_  
_Fall back in your arms, wake up in the morning_  
_Hating myself for the way that I can't help the way I still want you_  
_I just don't know how not to_

Bellamy really didn’t think this would be a problem for him, okay? He’s never been the broody, listens-to-Secondhand-Serenade-after-a-break-up kind of person, and you can hardly even call what he’s dealing with a _break-up_. 

So, as he looks around his living room at the carton of takeout and scowls at the fact that he automatically ordered a orange chicken dinner even though he doesn’t even _like_ orange chicken, he wonders if he actually has a problem.

No, scratch that. He knows he has a problem. What he doesn’t know is how to _fix_ it. 

See, when he first met Clarke Griffin, he had no idea she was going to wedge her way into his life in such a way that would make it nearly impossible for him to get over it once she was gone. 

To be fair, he had grossly underestimated what having a friends-with-benefits relationship with Clarke Griffin would be like. He’s not an idiot - he knew that once he knew what a potential relationship with her would be like he’d probably be screwed, but he hadn’t anticipated it getting that far. He’s never been a relationship person. He never had time for one in high school, and never wanted one once he was older, preferring just to go on dates and have a good time. It was shallow, but now, _now_ , he thinks bitterly, he understands his own reasoning even better. 

All that time, he thinks he was trying to protect himself from what he’s feeling now, which is something akin to a vast emptiness in the center of his chest. It feels like he’s missing something vital, to the point of an almost tangible ache, leaving him rubbing at the spot through his t-shirt.

It’s not even like they ended things badly. It was a little awkward, and he thinks there was some hurt feelings there, but he’s the idiot who ended it. He thought it would be better. Because, like the idiot he is (has he mentioned that already?), he started having feelings for Clarke, and didn’t want to deal with the rejection that would surely be thrown at him should he voice any of his feelings, or give away anything. And he knows, he _knows_ that it’s stupid. 

_“I don’t think we should do this anymore.” He tells her, pointedly not looking at her, instead concentrating on the one shoelace on his left shoe that’s twisted and not flat like the rest._

_“Um… okay?” She says, and she doesn’t sound upset, but she does sound hurt and confused, and he wonders if it’s normal to have these pains in his chest. “Do I get a say in this?”_

_“I’m moving.” He says, bluntly. “Closer to Octavia and Lincoln.”_

_“I thought you turned down the job?” She asks, and he hates this, hate it because while his head is telling him this is the right thing to do, his heart is_ screaming.

_“I realized I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. It’ll be good for me to get out of the city for a little while.”_

_“And what about me?” She asks, her voice hard, and surely he’s imagining the way her voice hitches just a little bit. Surely he’s projecting his own conflicting feelings on her when he thinks it sounds like her voice is shaking, just a little._

_“This has nothing to do with you, Clarke.” He tells her. The biggest lie he’s ever told. “We were just… having fun, right? No hard feelings. It just doesn’t make sense for us to keep going on like this if I’m going to be an hour’s drive away.”_

_Clarke blinks rapidly, and he doesn’t think about how the only other time he’s seen this particular expression on her face was when she found out her ex-boyfriend died in a car crash. He doesn’t think about it, because that would mean he knows how close to tears she is, and that would ruin everything. He’s barely able to stand upright as it is._

_She says something before wiping away an escaped tear, but he doesn’t hear her, only able to hear the roaring in his ears as he fixates on that tear track on her face, because this wasn’t supposed to hurt so much._

_None of this was supposed to_ mean _anything._

It’s been two months since he ended things with Clarke, and while he thinks he’s visibly doing okay, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about her, from wondering how she’s doing or _what_ she’s doing. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to drive back to the city to see her. 

It won’t do any good, and he knows it, so that’s why he’s here, surrounded by fast food cartons, wondering how this is his life.

He stands up abruptly, frustrated, nearly knocking his plate off the coffee table. He looks around the small living room of his house, wondering what it would be like if Clarke had really come with him. She would have sweaters and throw blankets covering every piece of furniture. There would be art on the walls and pictures on the shelves. 

There would be endless amounts of tupperware in the refrigerator because _you can never go wrong with leftovers, Bellamy_. There would be the scent of her shampoo in his bathroom and on his pillow, and her clothes mixed in with his in the wash, and all the other things he’s thought about but never dared to mention to her, because it went so far beyond the agreement they had. No feelings. No strings.

“ _Idiot_.” He tells himself, before giving up on dinner and heading upstairs to bed.

.

.

.

“You need to clean this place.” Octavia says, breezing in through the back door. Bellamy rolls his eyes from his place at the kitchen table, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Don’t you have a job?” 

“I’m off today. Don’t _you_ have a job?”

“I have a museum tour this afternoon so I don’t need to be in so early. What are you doing here? Are you here just to antagonize me?”

It’s Octavia’s turn to roll her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. What’s your problem lately?”

“I don’t have a problem.” Bellamy mumbles.

“You have a huge one. Look… I know whatever happened between you and Clarke has you messed up--”

Bellamy’s head shoots up. “What did you just say?” 

Octavia holds her hands up. “I’m just saying--”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about her, or me, or whatever… whatever fucked up thing we thought we were doing.” 

“Bell--”

“I told you about what happened because I wasn’t sure I made the right decision, O. Not for you to throw it back in my face.” 

Octavia gapes. “That’s not what I’m doing!” 

“I know this isn’t normal, Octavia. I’m sitting here pining away for a girl who probably doesn’t give a shit about me, and a girl that _I_ ended things with, no less. I don’t need to be reminded about how pathetic I am.” 

“You’re not pathetic. You’re in love, you idiot.” Octavia snaps. 

Bellamy’s jaw drops open as he stares at his sister, just hearing her words ring in his head over and over and over. “I’m-- I’m not--”

Octavia puts her hands on her hips. “You need to call her, and confess your undying devotion or else you’re going to become a cat person and I hate cats.”

“You’re hilarious.” Bellamy deadpans. “I can’t do that.” 

“Yes you can.” 

“Octavia…”

“Bellamy. You’re miserable. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could be in a relationship right now, or hate me, or be in a relationship _and_ hate me--”

“You’re going to lose your mind if you keep thinking like that.” 

Bellamy wipes his hand over his face. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” 

“I just want you to be happy, Bell.” Octavia says, reaching for his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” She leaves a few minutes later when he doesn’t answer, and he only feels guilty for a few moments before he’s back to thinking about what she said. 

_You’re in love, you’re in love, you’re in love_ repeats itself over and over until it’s all he can hear, and his heartbeat accelerates when he realizes she might be right. 

.

.

.

It turns out, his return to the city would have nothing to do with Clarke, and everything to do with the fact that one of his favorite professors from college is retiring. The party for Marcus Kane is going to be a lavish affair, from what he can tell, and he can’t _not_ go. The man practically got Bellamy admitted to NYU in the first place. He met Bellamy on a high school visit, and persuaded him to look into financial aid and even helped him write his admission letters and figure out how to juggle his classes and Octavia at the same time. 

The only thing giving him pause is that he’s heard rumors that Marcus is engaged to one Abigail Griffin, which would mean that Clarke is going to be at this party too. That’s how they met, after all. 

_“Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to undermine every point I bring up in lecture.” A voice says loudly from behind him, and he frowns, pulling out one of his headphones._

_“Excuse me?”_

_“I said, I’ve had enough of you talking over me every time I try to contribute to class discussion. It’s frustrating and frankly a little sexist. So can you please cut it out?” The girl says, her eyes flaring._

_“I can’t help it if you have bad opinions.” He snaps._

_“You don’t have to agree with me!” She says, nearly stomping her foot. “Just let me say what I want to say and then you can argue all you want.”_

_Bellamy softens. “I didn’t realize I was doing that.”_

_“You interrupted me six times during class today.”_

_“You counted?”_

_She looks sheepish. “I didn’t keep a tally, or anything.”_

_He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. I just-- I get really caught up in what we’re talking about and I always feel like I have to jump in.”_

_“Join the club,” Clarke says, “the plight of all women in college.”_

_He smiles faintly. “Sorry. I really didn’t realize I was doing it that often.”_

_She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. “Great. Well. Okay, then. That’s all I wanted to say.” She turns to leave, and for whatever reason, he calls out after her._

_“What’s your name?” He asks, and when she stops and turns around, smiling at him, something in his chest seems to fall into place._

_“Clarke. Which you would know if you hadn’t interrupted me the second I raised my hand every day.”_

_“Jesus. I’m a huge dick. I’m sorry.” He says, feeling a blush bloom on his neck. “I’m Bellamy. You know, so you know what to call me the next time you need to tell me to shut up.”_

_She grins. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll have many more opportunities.”_

And just like that, it was a weekly occurrence. In class, Bellamy and Clarke would go back and forth on differing opinions, and on the off chance they agreed, they were a force to be reckoned with against anyone who tried to argue with the both of them. 

Professor Kane indulged them to a point, and realized halfway through the semester he was better off pairing them up than having them on separate sides. They started hanging out outside of class to work on homework and study for exams, and somehow it became more than that - they actually became friends.

Then they introduced each other to their friends, found out they had mutual friends, and it wasn’t long before they were practically joined at the hip. They weren’t romantic right away. It was on a whim, actually, the first time anything happened between them, right after they graduated.

Bellamy doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it. 

He can’t forget the way she fit perfectly in his arms. He can’t forget the way she was so warm and soft against him, or the way she sighed his name the first time, even as she told him this was the first and last time, and that no one could know. 

Bellamy shakes his head, not wanting to dwell on that. He already thinks about her too often for someone he hasn’t seen in two months, and didn’t want to spend anymore time thinking about something that would never happen again. 

Because he broke the rules. When she whispered in his ear, no strings, no feelings, just sex, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable request. He wasn’t one for relationships, and if Clarke just wanted to blow off some steam he’d rather she did it with him than with some idiot off the street. He was being a good friend, in his own stupid, naive mind. 

Bringing himself back to the present, he rolls over in his bed in the hotel, scrubbing a hand down his face, wondering why he can’t just get it together. Clarke probably isn’t wasting her time thinking about him. She likely has a date for this, or isn’t coming, or could care less that he’s going to be there.

Groaning, he hefts himself out of bed and busies himself with showering and getting ready for the party, which is really more of a fancy lunch. When he’s done, he decides there’s nothing else for it, and he heads to the lobby to head out. Coming out of his room, he turns around to put the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door handle, and doesn’t look up when he turns back down the hall, immediately crashing into someone.

“Sorry--”

“Oh, god, I’m--”

They both speak at once, and then both immediately freeze. When she meets his eyes, he can’t control the look he’s sure is on his face when his brain finally registers that it’s Clarke. She looks the same as he remembers, which is _stupid_ , he knows, because it’s only been two months since he’s seen her, but it feels like years. 

“Bellamy.” She says, and then she’s smiling at him, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Hi, Clarke.” He says, and curses internally when his voice comes out rougher than he intends. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” She says quietly. “I’m glad you did.” Her eyes widen fractionally, like she hadn’t planned on saying that, and she adds, “Marcus will be glad to see you.” 

Bellamy can’t help it, he scrunches his nose. “Marcus?”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “I can’t keep calling him _professor_ now that he and my Mom are… well. You’ve probably heard.” 

“I did.” He looks down at his shoes for a moment, unsure of himself. “Are you staying at the hotel?”

Clarke’s smile falters. “Yeah. I uh… my Mom and I aren’t really--” she huffs, seemingly steeling herself. “I moved back home while I was looking for work, but she and I had a falling out.” She stops, her lips forming a tight line, almost like she’s remembering that she and Bellamy don’t talk like this anymore. “I won’t keep you.” She says shaking her head, plastering a smile on her face. “I have to run to the store before I show up to get some things, but I guess I’ll see you there?” 

Bellamy speaks before his brain can tell him not to. “Do you need a hand?” 

Clarke blinks rapidly.

Bellamy backtracks. “I mean-- no. Never mind. That was stupid, I--”

“Actually, that would be great. I wanted to get some wine that doesn’t cost twenty dollars per glass.” She smiles, and though it’s hesitant, it’s a start.

.

.

.

Bellamy had forgotten about this - the way Clarke Griffin took absolutely _forever_ in a grocery store. They’re in the corner store down the street from the hotel, and Bellamy huffs quietly, looking at his watch. “Clarke.”

“One more minute.” 

“We’re going to be late.” He tells her, trying to ignore the way she breezes by him, her arm brushing his, the familiar scent of her hair filling his senses. 

“I just need one more thing,” she promises, “I swear!” 

Bellamy sighs, but the corners of his mouth tip up in an amused smile, and he tries to remember how he was feeling this morning. It shouldn’t be this easy for them to be comfortable around each other. It shouldn’t be this easy for him to feel happy again.

But that’s the thing -- it’s _always_ easy for him to feel happy around Clarke. It isn’t just that she does things that he finds endearing (like you know, just _existing_ ), but she has this easy way about her that puts him at ease. She doesn’t take herself too seriously, and it makes him more carefree, too.

“Okay. I’m ready.” She says, coming up to him with three bottles of wine in her arms, and he takes one from her that’s tipping precariously, his fingers tingling where they brush her arm. 

They get to the hotel and Bellamy can tell immediately that people are staring, and he swallows, trying to ignore the way that Clarke is beaming next to him, in the middle of what he’s sure is a great story. All he can concentrate on is the fact that it looks like they’re arriving _together_ , and he wants to kick himself. Maybe coming to this wasn’t the best idea he’s ever had. 

“Bellamy,” a voice to his left grabs his attention, and he smiles when he sees Marcus Kane approaching him, a broad grin on the older man’s face. “It’s good to see you.” He shakes his hand, using his other hand to squeeze Bellamy’s shoulder, and Bellamy sees Kane’s gaze slide to Clarke for a split second. “How are you? How’s Octavia?” 

“I’m good. She’s good. Everything is good.” He says, and when he meets Clarke’s eyes briefly, he finds that he means it, even if it’s just for today.

.

.

.

“This is terrible.” Clarke says under her breath, taking another sip of her wine. 

Bellamy watches her warily. “You’re not going to start booing, are you?” He asks quietly. 

“I just didn’t think there would be this many speeches.” Clarke complains, shifting in her seat, the hem of her dress riding up slightly, but enough that it causes a flash of heat to ripple through Bellamy. “I mean, I like Marcus, but this is _a lot_.” 

Bellamy chuckles, but agrees silently. They’re on the sixth speech of the afternoon, and they all mostly seem to be saying the same thing. 

“We should get out of here.” Clarke says, and Bellamy nearly gives himself whiplash when he snaps his head up to look at her. 

“What?” 

Clarke has a gleam in her eyes that makes him excited and nervous all at once, and he’s seen this look before. He knows it well, dreams about it almost nightly. “We should get out of here.” She repeats, starting to look unsure of herself. 

Bellamy swallows, his hands clenching into fists. “Don’t do this, Clarke.” He warns, his voice low and dangerous. 

“I’m just--”

“I know what you’re _just_ , and I don’t--” he stops, taking a deep breath. “Christ, Clarke. That’s not funny anymore.” 

“I’m not being funny.” Clarke says strongly, her voice coming out a sharp whisper. People are starting to look at them now, and Bellamy’s sure the tension in his body can be seen a mile away. 

Before she can protest, Bellamy stands, gripping Clarke’s wrist lightly, giving her enough time to pull away. When she doesn’t, he leads her out into the hallway of the hotel, down where it’s quiet, away from the ballroom. 

“I thought you weren’t going to--” Clarke starts, reaching for him, but Bellamy takes a quick step backwards, his back pressing against the wall. Clarke’s arm drops, and a hurt look appears on her face, though she tries to mask it. “Why are you being like this?” 

Bellamy laughs without humor. “You can’t seriously be asking me that.” 

“Why? Because you’re the one that ended what we were doing, in case you forgot.” 

“Of course I didn’t _forget_.” Bellamy growls, his eyes narrowing, gearing up for a fight. 

“Then why are you acting like you can’t stand the idea of touching me? Wasn’t that what you said - we’re just having fun? It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“It fucking _does_ mean something, Clarke, that’s the whole goddamn point!” Bellamy says harshly, his control snapping. “Why the fuck do you think I ended it?” 

Clarke’s eyes flash. “You’re joking.” When he doesn’t say anything, her face morphs into a frown. “You’re joking. Right?” 

“I’m not joking.” He tells her slowly, his voice gravelly. He takes a step towards her, gratified when she doesn’t back away, just tilts her head up to meet his eyes.

“Bellamy--”

He doesn’t know if it’s the wine making him bold, or just his head telling him to stop being a baby and just say what he means for once, but he continues. “I ended things with you because I was starting to have feelings for you, and that wasn’t part of our deal.” 

He hears her breath hitch, and then, startlingly, her eyes are watering. “You _idiot_.” She says, and his heart sinks.

“Clarke--” he says, reaching for her, but this time she’s the one to back away, and he feels his heart absolutely break in his chest when he realizes she’s actually crying now. “Clarke, please--”

“You’re so stupid. You ended things with me without even _talking_ to me first, and this whole time you’ve had feelings for me?” 

He doesn’t say anything, not sure what to do when it feels like his heart is pounding out of his chest and he can’t catch his breath. 

“That day… you didn’t even let me get a word in. You just stood there and told me we were just _having fun_ and you didn’t even let me tell you that _I have feelings for you too,_ you absolute--” 

Bellamy cuts her off by surging forward, gripping her hand. “What did you just say?” He asks, and honestly, if he knew how much he’d be saying that lately, he-- he stops, realizing Clarke is talking, and he pulls himself out of his own head.

Clarke sniffs. “I have feelings for you. For two months I’ve been trying to figure out what went wrong and why you acted like what we were doing wasn’t anything worth keeping.” 

His heart cracks just a little bit more. He feels so stupid. How could they both have done this for the last two months? Neither one of them said a word about having feelings for each other, and Octavia was right - Bellamy has been _miserable_ for the last two months. All this time he and Clarke could have… they could have at least had a conversation about what they meant to each other and how they could have worked it out.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and he means it. He feels like a total idiot. “I didn’t-- Clarke, I had no idea how you felt and I was so freaked out that I figured I needed to end things before it fell apart on its own.”

“It might have worked. I would have tried to make it work.” Clarke says, and her voice is so small. He hates this. 

“I’ve missed you.” He goes for honesty. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I thought so many times about showing up at your house but I thought I would hate myself the next day if I just let myself get back into something casual with you when what I really wanted was something more.” 

Clarke smiles a little, and that makes him feel minutely better. “I’m really glad you ended up coming to this party, Bellamy.” 

.

.

.

_3 Weeks Later_

His bed shifts as she tries not to wake him up, and he bites back a smile. She’s always done that - comes in the front door, late, clattering around in her heels, but then tries so hard to be quiet in the bedroom. Her skin is cold as she snuggles under the covers and he lets out a groan, and then a laugh when she automatically burrows into his chest, shivering. 

“Fun night?” He asks, his voice gravelly. 

“It was. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep.” 

“I was barely sleeping. You’re freezing.” 

“Well, it’s cold outside.” He lifts his arm and she burrows further into his side, the familiar smell of her hair washing over him, along with a sharp smell he can only describe as winter cold. “You should be asleep. It’s past one.”

He hums running a hand over her hair. “Never can sleep that well when you’re gone,” he admits. “I was dozing.” 

“You’re going to hate me tomorrow for keeping you up.” 

Bellamy laughs. “Don’t count on it.” 

They’re both quiet for a few minutes as she finally settles. “Missed you.” She whispers, placing a kiss at the base of his neck. 

He smiles, a lazy grin, and tugs her closer. “Mm, missed you too. Though some of us actually have to work around here, so…” he trails off, laughing when she pinches him. 

Since the party in the city, he and Clarke have fallen into a routine. They’re taking it slow, just spending as much time with each other as they possibly can while she finishes the last two months of an internship in the city. She’s looking for jobs closer to where he lives, and spends a lot of time at his house, even when it means she has a train ride in the morning to get back to her Mom’s place. Bellamy thinks the tense relationship between the Griffin women has something to do with Clarke spending a lot of nights at his house, too, but he’s not complaining. 

In fact, he thinks sleepy, soft, warm, first-thing-in-the-morning Clarke is his favorite. 

He plants a kiss on her head and tugs her even closer, one of his legs sliding between hers until they’re so tangled together he can’t tell where she ends and where he begins. He feels contentment singing in his blood and wonders how it ever took them so long to get here. 

“Go to sleep, Bell.” She whispers. “I’ll be here in the morning.” She promises, and he wonders if now is too soon to ask her about being here every single morning for the rest of his life. 

It’s good though, what they’ve got right now. It’s good, and it’s _Clarke_ , and that’s more than enough for him.

**End**


End file.
